Eternally Tainted
by WritesInRed
Summary: AU. Draco Malfoy lives in a world where Harry Potter never existed, and the Dark Lord is at his peak. When a young redheaded female slave stumbles into his life, Draco will never be the same. M for sexuality and violence in later chapters . DM/GW.
1. Of Slaves and Power

Storyline D: Dr/Gin

**Title: **Eternally Tainted

**Disclaimer: **Nothing belongs to me but the plot/storyline.

**Rating: R **(WARNING: Dark/disturbing imagery & language, violence, sexuality)

**Summary: **Draco Malfoy lives in a world where Harry Potter never existed, and the Dark Lord is at his peak. When a young female slave stumbles into his life, Draco Malfoy will never be the same.

**Pairings: **DM/GW

**OoO**

**A/N: **Pairing appears in upcoming chapter, this chapter's purpose is to give a solid, extensive look at our main character and the world he lives in.

**OoO**

She had a dark tangled mess of long, bushy hair. Her face was shadowed and hollow with resignation, but she still managed to possess a quiet beauty. She was tall, with a scrawny figure. She kept her head bowed towards the ground, but sporadically flicked her eyes upwards in an attempt to view her potential buyer. She trembled from head to toe as two men surveyed her.

Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized her figure. He did not like what he saw. "No, this one's defective," he wrinkled his nose.

The slave-master grimaced, "But young master Malfoy, she is the finest we've received in over a month! Men are battling over the price. She is top quality! Some even say she may be pureblood. She's worth quite a pretty penny."

Draco looked into the gruff older man's face. For all his years, the man had not seemed to age a bit since Draco had met him as a small boy ten years ago. Slave-master Pucey was Draco's schoolmate Adrian's father. He was the highest paid and respected slave merchant in all of Britain. Men were lucky to buy a slave of his stock, as they were usually the healthiest and strongest. Little was known about his sources, but clearly he had ins and allies in all the right places.

"There is no deal," Draco said with finality, eyeing the pretty-faced girl one last time. "I need a slave with more life in them; they need to be able to withstand the… purposes I need them to fulfill."

Master Pucey heaved an exasperated sigh, "Very well. I'd be hard put to say I've ever had a disappointed customer before."

"Maybe you should be more careful where you get your stock then," Draco snapped haughtily, a grin broadening across his face. "You wouldn't want your reputation ruined now, would you?"

The man eyed Draco carefully before leaning in so close that the boy could barely hear him speak. "I may yet have a deal for you that you'd be unable to resist. Return to my trade-post in two weeks time and you won't be disappointed. Don't speak of this to anyone; I have a surprise for just your eyes."

Draco eyed the slave-master suspiciously as he reached out his hand. Draco took it and shook, nodding slowly. "I'll return and it better be worth it. Don't let me down, Pucey."

The man gave a small smile, "Of course not young master Malfoy. Give my regards to Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, sir."

Draco nodded and returned to the horse-drawn coach that waited for him. His personal servant and body guard, Algar, scrambled to pull down the step-ladder. "Sir, you've returned alone," his surprised voice rolled out from his oversized hood.

"Pucey failed to fulfill my needs," Draco's quiet voice floated down to Algar, who patiently watched the blonde's lithe form rise up the stepladder gently. As soon as Draco entered the luxurious cabin, Algar hastily locked the ladder back into place and apparated to his seat beside Draco.

"She was actually quite pretty," Draco mused, twiddling his wand between his thumbs. "But no, she won't do. I need a hardy slave, one that won't die within a week. I don't want to have to keep wasting money on new slaves all the time. I have better things to do than revisit that smelly old shack every few weeks."

Beside Draco, Algar nodded silently. It came as no shock that the young man beside him cared little for the well-being of a slave.

After all, a slave was not a person; slaves were purely for the benefit, comfort, and assistance to their masters. Draco knew that most slaves performed menial duties. More like servants, really. In Draco's opinion, the whole situation was bullocks. He believed that slaves were nothing less than a utensil to fulfill a wizard's needs. Some men acknowledged the humanity of their slaves. Draco snorted at such weakness. All slaves were either muggles, mud-bloods, or half-bloods. They didn't deserve to breathe unless it was meant to benefit their rightful owners, purebloods.

Slaves. Dirty-blooded scum.

Draco smirked as he remembered his first slave. He was nine, and his mother bought one for his birthday present. It was a rather ugly young girl who couldn't have been much older than he. She appeared to fulfill her role quite well, until Draco requested her to let him borrow one of her arms because he'd injured his. Draco didn't understand why she cried and screamed, trying to run away from him. He'd cornered her and did his very best to get his way. What a mess that turned out to be. His mother spent two whole hours trying to scrub her dirty blood from his bedroom floor. The girl was then deemed useless and disposed of. It mattered not to Draco, who received a new slave just a few months later once his mother decided he could be trusted not to maim or kill another one.

"You won't get another one if you damage this one," Narcissa scolded him in her usual cold, bored tone. "It's a chore having to clean up the messes you make. And how do you expect to get _use_ out of one if you keep ruining them?"

Draco was obedient, for a few years. He secretly itched to perform experiments on them and use them in any way he saw fit. It wasn't right that he had to have boundaries. What rubbish! Draco didn't need _boundaries_. He wasn't a baby, he could handle himself. Regardless, eventually Draco grew older and got bored with his childish impulses.

As soon as he turned sixteen, Draco was inducted into the Death-eaters inner circle, much to the pride of his father, Lucius. Lucius was itching to earn his station at the Dark Lord's side. It had been fifteen years since the fall of the Ministry of Magic and what was left of Dumbledore's infamous Order of the Phoenix. With the best and most powerful aurors out of the way, the Light side fell into disarray and panic.

Lucius often told Draco bedtime stories about the glorious uprising of the Dark Lord. Draco couldn't imagine, no- he feared, a world in which muggles and dirty blooded scum ran freely. Imagine the chaos, the disorder, the world would be in?

Draco shivered involuntarily. Algar's bored sigh snapped him from his reverie. Draco's eyes caught the landscape through the thick glass window at his side. They were nearly at the manor gates. Had he really zoned out for that long? His father would be royally pissed that Draco was returning empty handed.

Lucius' most recent lecture echoed in Draco's head. "You need a slave, boy and you need to learn how to handle owning one. Now that you're turning up to be one of our Lord's finest, you need to learn how to maintain and utilize your subordinates. If you can't keep a slave under your control, never mind alive for more than a month, how can you expect to be respected by your enemies, or your inferiors?"

Draco had failed to find a slave. Draco winced involuntarily at the brief memory of what happened when he failed at anything. He could still feel the tight sensation in his shoulder from last time Lucius punished him. He was lucky it was only the lash last time. The cat-o-nine-tails was the worse thing he'd ever had the misfortune of dealing with.

Fortunately for Draco, he'd learned how to turn his expressions and emotions on and off like a switch. To survive, and be regarded highly, one needed to remain emotionless and powerful to keep their position in society. Draco could not cry, scream, or resist while being punished. A stony-faced acceptance of one's circumstances was necessary, or else more lashings (or worse) would ensue.

Draco did not like to feel pain. He did, however, greatly enjoy torturing captured free-roaming muggles. It gave him immense satisfaction to put them in their rightful place, a wonderful mess trembling at his feet. It was also a fantastic way to relieve his stress and pent up frustrations with daily life. Draco was especially vicious to his victims on days when he'd been reprimanded by Lucius.

Draco's carriage came to an abrupt halt, shaking him from his ruminations once more. His mouth felt dry. Shit. He was not looking forward to reporting to his father. The longer it took for Draco to acquire (and keep) a slave, the longer it took for him to gain the respect of a full-fledged wizard. His father did not like feeling that his son was inadequate or unworthy of the Dark Lord's acceptance.

Once Algar released the drop-ladder, Draco jumped to the ground and apparated to the mansion's main entrance. Upon letting himself in, he received a trite blow to the face, which knocked him off-balance and he tumbled onto his back.

"You've come alone," Draco heard Lucius' hissing voice as he stared up at the tall man from the ground.

"Sir, I-," Draco stumbled to his feet, just to receive yet a stronger blow.

"How often must you disobey me, you weak, spoiled, irresponsible fool? Go to your quarters and don't come out until you are sent for. Algar will retrieve you when I see fit."

Draco wordlessly retreated to his quarters and sulked to his bedroom. He whispered a hasty healing spell directed at his head and reclined upon his bed.

Calm, composed. That was the only way he knew to be. Within his mind, he was silently ticked that his father had yet again forced him to heal his own concussion. He was rich, powerful. Why did he have to take orders from his poncy, aging father? Soon enough, Draco mused, he would have the ability, the power, to outdo his father and all of those pathetic old men the Dark Lord used and abused at his laziest whims.

Draco was no puppet. Not to anyone. The Dark Lord knew that Draco was above such trivial purposes. He had special tasks that not even his father knew of. Draco grinned at the thought of his father's ignorance. If only he knew just how strong he could be.


	2. Ginger

**Disclaimer: Same as always… only the plotline is mine.**

**OoO**

Lightning flashed and thunder growled.

Draco Malfoy scowled, ticked. He hated rain. Two weeks had passed, and today was the day he was supposed to go back to Master Pucey's post. How was he going to go in that stupid bloody storm? He knew dispelling charms of course, but the effort it took to waterproof his cloaks was rather annoying and a waste of time. The rain almost always found a way to seep through and leave watermarks on his expensive silk.

Another crack of lighting told Draco that the storm didn't intend on leaving any time soon. He paced his room, pondering what his best option would be. Wait another day to buy his slave, or risk ruining one of his robes?

Waiting another day was not an option. He would have to find one of his cheapest robes; he had to have _something_ that was expendable. Draco chuckled at the thought, nothing he owned was expendable. He was a Malfoy, after all.

The Malfoy surname. Draco smirked as he ransacked his outer-wear closet. Draco had not spent a single penny in all his years on clothes. That's what parents were for, and he happened to be heir to one of the biggest fortunes in all of Britain.

Something caught his eye. On the floor closest to the wall, having fallen off of its apparently cheap hanger, was a lime green robe Draco couldn't recall having ever worn. He picked it up gingerly, slightly irked by the layers of dust and musty smell that flurried off the robe.

Once the dust was clear, Draco could see the Malfoy crest emblem that stretched across the chest. He ran his hands along the fabric, pleasantly surprised at the soft silkiness that met his fingertips. Not the highest quality, but definitely not a rag. It would be good enough.

Draco rattled off a series of spells that, combined, would enable him to travel in the rain without getting the robe or himself wet. Draco couldn't remember even seeing this robe before, so it wouldn't matter if it became damaged. Perfect.

Draco stashed his wand in the chest pocket, and found his way to the large manor foyer.

"Where are you hurrying off to?" a smooth voice drifted from the room on his right, the tea-room.

Draco stepped into the doorway to see his father seated on the leather sofa, newspaper in hand. Lucius' feet were propped upon the table as he narrowed his eyes at his son.

Draco rolled his eyes. Pompous old man. "I've got some business to take care of. I'll be back within a few hours."

"What business could a youth such as yourself have, wandering off into such a vicious storm?" his father replied silkily.

"You won't be disappointed upon my return, I assure you." Draco's vague response warranted a raised eyebrow from the older man, who nodded at last and returned to reading the Daily Prophet.

Draco could finally leave. It really was quite annoying how often his father interfered into his business. They could possibly get along much better if that bloody git would just leave him to his own devices.

Draco hailed Algar with a flick of his wand. In a flash, his scrawny servant had apparated with a pop to his side. Draco peered at the familiar face before him, smiling." It's time to go, retrieve my coach."

Algar nodded, then disapparated. Within moments, he reappeared, and the duo stepped out the door. Draco's private coach awaited him at the bottom of the manor steps.

Once Draco and Algar were seated, the coach drifted into motion. "Take me to Preston Square," Draco told their driver, and at once they were off. In only a few minutes time, Draco would seize the moment that would make, or break, his reputation. He could admit that he wasn't quite prepared. What if Pucey's surprise stock wasn't as great as he had anticipated? He wouldn't buy a defective product. He'd rather blow his money on fire whiskey and women.

His father would be royally pissed, of course, but he'd have to deal with it and let Draco bide his time. The man was stubborn, but eventually he'd learn that Draco was, sadly, just like him. Only items worth being proud of were worth buying. The best of the best. That was what being a Malfoy was about.

The coach lurched to a halt. Had they arrived already? Draco popped his head into the window to see the bustling center of Preston Square. Finally.

Draco and Algar strolled through the crowds until they could see the bright blue rooftop of the slave-master's post. A new poster was plastered across the doorframe of a cloaked man shouting "Latest sale, all new product at bargain prices! Get 'em while they're fresh!"

Draco rolled his eyes. Pucey lacked any sense of taste. Draco strolled his way into the doorway, instructing Algar to wait outside for him.

The shop was very dull. There wasn't much in there but a few couches and a rather ugly, mean-looking plant. It was taller than Draco, and each purple bulb spouted dangerous looking spikes. Draco figured it would probably be a very, very bad idea to touch one of the bulbs.

There were only a few other men in the room, all of them seated quietly with vacant expressions. The only other feature of the shop entry-room was the doorway that led to Pucey's office and no-doubt the entrance to the slave cells. Normally, Pucey displayed one or two products at a post on the street, but it seemed that this week he wanted to keep his new product from the public eye.

Pucey did not usually like to advertise exactly what he offered, since some wizards did not approve of slave-keeping. Draco grimaced at the thought. Pathetic excuses of wizards. Didn't they understand that mud-bloods and muggles needed to be kept where they belonged, groveling at the feet of their righteous owners?

Draco's train of thought was interrupted as the door to Pucey's office swung ajar. The burly old man stepped through, and smiled a broad, toothy grin at the sight of the young heir to the Malfoy fortune.

"I wondered if you'd come. But I see that you're a smart lad." The man addressed Draco, ignoring the patiently waiting customers already seated on the sofas.

"Of course I was going to come," Draco replied snidely. "I need to see if you're as good as you say you are. I won't wait any longer to get what I want."

"Of course," the man replied with a half scowl. "Anything for the finest wizarding family around."

Draco nodded at the man, who motioned for the boy to follow. They passed through Pucey's rather plain office, and into a long hallway. There were no doors but one, a heavy wooden gate at the end of the hall. Pucey led Draco straight to the door, pausing to take one last glance at him.

"You're going to like what I've got to offer you," Pucey insisted, finally pushing the gate open.

Draco crossed the threshold and set his eyes upon the unfamiliar dungeon. He normally visited the public post and had never been in the heart of the slave-keeper's station.

The room was lined with thick wrought-iron gated cell doors. The cells themselves were simply thick iron bars, but there was no room for even a tiny animal to fit through, let alone a human. Draco could see bushy-haired heads from behind each gate as he passed through. It seemed that Pucey was leading him beyond the core of cells. At the end of the room was a thick black door, without windows or bars bearing view to what lay behind.

Pucey came to a halt outside the black door, and smirked at Draco's confused expression. "This isn't what I brought you here for, but you should see this one."

Pucey clicked a key into the door, and pushed Draco across the opening. There, under dimly lit lighting, was a young female. She was in heavy set chains, which seemed ridiculous to Draco because she appeared to have a very small frame. Her face was tilted towards the ground, causing her long red hair to hide her face from view. She remained perfectly still in her restraints, still not looking up as the two men advanced towards her.

"Is she dead?" Draco sent Pucey a glare, wondering why the old man built him up just to show him a product even worse than last time, if that was even possible.

A grin widened across the older man's face as he surveyed the young girl before him. "Au contraire, Mister Malfoy. She's a feisty one alright. Why do you think she's kept here in chains, away from the others? She's a hard one to keep in one place. She's got enough drive in her to practically fly out of here if she had wings. Doesn't like being locked up. The little bitch actually bit my keeper once."

The man smirked, apparently deciding to elaborate on the subject, "She was punished duly, of course."

"Doesn't look like she has much to her," Draco snapped in disbelief.

"Oh she does, just watch." Pucey flicked a switch on the wall to his left. Before Draco's eyes, the girl seemed to come to life. She snapped her head up. As her eyes settled upon the two men in front of her, she attempted to draw backwards. Her chains held her perfectly in place, and after a few moment's struggle she finally gave up, chest heaving from the adrenaline rush. With a panicked look, she glared at her intruders and remained silent. Her gaze returned to the floor as she inhaled quickly, but steadily.

"What just happened?" Draco sent the man an incredulous look, realizing that the slave-keeper must have done something to the girl to keep her in such a calm state.

"We have to keep her sedated, or else all she does is cause problems. She doesn't seem to understand her place."

Pucey walked to stand beside her, and then yanked her had upwards by the hair. She seemed to panic under his touch, attempting to pull herself away from his grip.

Draco's heart skipped a beat as his eyes met hers. Fire and ice. Her eyes were a bright crystal blue unlike anything he had ever seen. He felt like his soul was being drawn out of his body, right into those shining blue pools.

He tore his eyes away from hers with a massive effort. He scrutinized her face. She was beautiful. Flawless. She had creamy, pale skin spattered with a dusting of freckles, and a perfect little nose. Her full lips were a bright, attractive red that seemed to call out to him. _Kiss me._

A chill went down Draco's spine. He shook himself, drawing his eyes away from her face.

"I'll take her."

"You'll- what?" Pucey snapped in surprise. Letting the girl go. He flicked the switch back down, causing the girl to slump in her restraints once more.

"How much?"

"You can't be serious. No one wants a slave that doesn't know its place. Who wants to deal with such trouble? No, I've got the perfect one for you just down the hall."

"I'm taking this one." Draco persisted, reaching into his waist-pouch. He pulled out ten galleons and held out his palm. "Name your price, old man."

"I- well…" The man paused, seemingly figuring out bargains silently in his head. "Eight galleons and she's all yours. We'll be more than glad to have her off our hands."

"Done." Draco dropped all but two galleons into Pucey's outstretched hand, and replaced the others into his pouch.

The old man seemed flustered. Did he really think Draco couldn't handle such a slave? Draco was secretly thrilled at his find. She was exactly what he'd been looking for, and he couldn't wait to break her down into nothing. Make her learn just how insignificant and meaningless she really was; learn that she was nothing more than a tool for the pleasure of wizards. She wasn't really a "she" after all, she was an "it." A thing. Draco's new play-thing. Never-mind that she happened to be attractive. Draco mourned her beauty. What a waste. Imagine if he'd stumbled across a witch who looked like this flawed creature?

But no, Draco hadn't been that fortunate. Most of the witches he'd bedded were average, at best. It was a shame, really. Draco didn't want his sons to look anything like those little twits.

Draco smirked at the old man as he cast spell after spell upon the girl. "What's her name?"

"Name? What's her name? They don't have names. We've called her Ginger, just to distinguish her from the others. We needed to remember that she was the dangerous one when dividing up feeding duties."

Pucey had released Ginger from her shackles, and she appeared to have returned to a sedated state. She had a magical collar on.

"She'll stay like this 'til you take the collar off of her," Pucey smiled, glad to have her off of his hands at last. "Once you do, she'll return to full consciousness. Good luck, boy. Pleasure doing business. Give your father my regards."

"Until next time," Draco nodded, as the older man led him back to the main entrance and gestured with his hand towards the door.

Draco stepped outside with the girl in tow, it seemed as though she was magicked to follow him. Good, at least he wouldn't have to carry her dead weight around. Then again, she was tiny. Starved-looking, almost. He could probably pick her up with one arm.

Never-mind that, Malfoy's don't lift anything.

Draco nodded to Algar, who silently gazed at Draco's new entourage. Algar nodded in approval as he signaled for their coach, which instantly appeared in front of them.

Lucius would be very pleased at Draco's new slave. Draco grinned as he seated himself beside Algar. This was going to be very interesting.


	3. Derailed

**OoO**

**Disclaimer: *Rowling is responsible for the characters whose lives I like to manipulate for my own pleasure. *laughs evilly*.**

**A/N: Some of you have voiced concerns about Ginny. This story is AU but not necessarily OOC, her background is going to be explained in future chapters, so don't worry about how she is presented so far. All the juicy stuff is still yet to come! I don't wanna give away all the good stuff yet .**

**OoO**

Lucius eyed Draco's slave thoroughly. By all rights, she was pleasing to look at, which would come in handy when the Malfoy's hosted dinner parties. "It's perfect," he'd said, and turned away without another word.

Draco frowned. He felt a mixture of repulsion and fascination at his father's response to Ginger. The old man had clearly just openly ogled a mud-blood, which was a disgusting creature by nature. Attraction to one was sinful, treacherous. It was especially curious to Draco that his father hadn't even bothered to hide his interest. What would his fellow Death-eaters have to say about that?

Draco was quite pleased that his parents didn't give him problems for his choice of servant. He had the inclination to believe that Ginger was more than fine by his father. Perhaps too fine. Maybe Draco would have to keep an eye on Ginger when his father was around, just make sure nothing goes awry.

"Algar," he spoke at last, turning to his faithful servant. "Please retrieve Abella. She doesn't listen to my summons when I call her. I think my father interfered with my control over them."

"Yes, sir," the scrawny man mumbled in response, apparating to the servant quarters to retrieve Draco's favorite maid-servant.

Draco glanced at Ginger. Her head was still slightly drooped, and she had been silent all along. She was still under control of that stupid collar. Tentatively, he reached out and pressed the button on the back. The shiny collar snapped open, then shriveled up and exploded in a tiny ball of dust. So much for keeping the collar and running tests on it.

The girl seemed to slowly come to life. She raised her head and her eyes cautiously searched the room. It appeared as though she began to panic, because she was breathing heavily, almost shaking. After several moments she calmed herself down, taking slow, even breaths. At last, she rested her gaze upon Draco.

Draco was fascinated by her. She remained still and yet tense, like she might try to flee the room at any moment. A feeling of cold swept through him as he made eye contact with her. Her gaze was icy, intense. A shiver ran down his spine.

Before Draco could speak to the red-head, Abella appeared. Dusting off her apron, she bowed lightly to Draco, and waited to be addressed.

Draco sent Ginger a sideways glance as he spoke to the maid. "Clean this girl up. She needs to be scrubbed until her filthy body is spotless. When you're done, bring her a set of the blue robes. She'll learn her place quickly, I think. Once she has been prepared, send her to the holding cell in my wing."

Abella nodded, and instructed two of her assistants to stand on either side of Ginger. Once they'd braced themselves on her arm, the four of them apparated from the spot.

Draco drew in a deep breath. She hadn't spoken a word to him, nor did she seem to be looking at him. It was more like she was looking through him, piercing through his soul. Shaking off the creepy feeling, Draco retreated to his bedroom. He felt more at ease immediately.

His bedroom was kingly; his four-poster bed was draped in silky green curtains, and topped with countless feather pillows. Straight ahead was Draco's favorite feature, an enormous bay window with a private balcony. It was one of his preferred retreats. When things got hectic and he had too much on his mind, which was quite frequent at night, he would sit in his leather arm-chair and stare into the midnight sky. Night-time was the only time that Draco could truly be alone, while everyone else was asleep.

Although, lately Draco was surprised to catch his father sneaking off rather often to his "private room". Who knew what the man could be doing in there. When Draco asked, he would simply say "It's my personal room, don't let me catch you trying to get in there" with finality and a mean glare.

Servants were few and far, only a handful remained awake to prepare for the following day and keep watch over the premises. Sometimes Draco wished that night would become eternal, so that no one would ever bother him again.

A rap on his door distracted him from his thoughts. "Come in," Draco drawled, spreading leisurely across his bed.

Abella entered shyly, bowing as Draco turned his attention to her. "You're maiden is ready for you now."

Draco nodded, and the servant left. It was time to have a little fun. He eased himself from his bed and headed towards the holding cells. Normally, unwanted visitors and captured mud-bloods were kept in the dungeons. However, Draco had requested to have personal holding cells so that he might have fun with select captives. It had been a brilliant idea. Every new piece of dark magic that Draco had learned, he'd practiced upon select prisoners. He was getting rather good at the cruciatus curse, and a few good burning spells. Those were getting rather boring though, and it had been a long time since Draco had anyone in his cells.

Draco quietly creaked open the door to the cell foyer. The thick steel door, although enchanted, was rather tacky, but it did the job. Few people escaped from the cells, but those who did never made it past the front door. Lucius never revealed what magic had been put into it, but Draco had seen some pretty gruesome after-effects. A few muggles had even died. Perhaps that was because they were weaker without the traces of magic that those stupid mud-bloods claimed to have.

The room was lined with empty cells, all but one. Sitting in the center of the corner cell was Ginger. She remained silent as he approached, simply seeming to stare off into nothing.

He paused in front of her, but she avoided his gaze. "Don't you speak, girl?" Draco leered as he peered at her from the opposite side of the bars.

She did not respond, nor did she appear to acknowledge that he'd spoken.

Draco was irked. Who did she think she was, ignoring him like that?

"I see that you have no manners," Draco smiled thinly, waiting for a sign of life from the girl. "Perhaps you need to be taught a lesson."

Draco let several moments pass before inching his face right up to the bars. "You know we're alone here, I could do whatever I want to you, and no one would ever find out or give a damn. You don't want to disrespect me, little girl."

At last, a light seemed to flicker on in her head. She looked up at him blankly and then rose to her feet. Bringing her face to within inches of his, just behind the bars, she gave a small, mirthless laugh.

"You think you're so wonderful and powerful, don't you?" She spat, kicking hard at the bar closest to Draco. "You rich little pure-bloods think everyone should bow to your every whim. I'm not your toy, and I won't be sticking around much longer."

Draco drew back a few steps in surprise. Her response shocked him, in spite of Pucey's warnings. Defiance. Pucey had told him no one liked dealing with her. She was the only slave they'd ever needed to keep sedated just to avoid problems.

That little bitch. No one had ever taught her just where she belonged in the world. How worthless she really was. It was time someone kicked her off her almighty horse and dragged her nose in the dirty mud, reflecting on what she was on the inside.

Without a word, Draco flicked his wand at the cell-door and it slid open. She seemed startled, and took a few steps back as Draco entered.

She held her head high as he closed in on her. She had backed herself into the wall. With another flick of his wand, Draco conjured chains from the wall and magicked them to bind her hands beside her.

"You don't seem to understand," Draco purred, conjuring shackles to her ankles, now standing just a foot away from the girl. "You're not going anywhere. I see that I have a lot to teach you."

"You have some delusion that you're my equal," Draco laughed in her face. "You're nobody's equal. You're disposable, replaceable. I could use you for whatever I want and throw you away when I'm done. Of course, it's a lot more fun to do as much as possible to you first. But then again, I don't want to have to buy another one of you too soon."

"You speak as if I'm not a person. You piece of shit, you're nothing but a monster. What gives you the right to make people you're slave?" She snarled, nonplussed by her predicament.

Draco backhanded her hard across the face. "Let's get one thing straight. You're not a person. You're not even human. You're an it, a thing. You're my new toy and I'm going to make damn sure I get plenty of use out of you. Of course, once all the fun is gone, I'll enjoy watching you squirm as you're terminated."

Ginger's face was red from where he'd smacked her, but she appeared to pay no mind to the blow. At Draco's mention of termination, he saw her eyes widen. Jackpot.

"Oh yes, my little pet. What do you think happens when something breaks or is no longer of use to you? You throw it away. Of course, in the case of slaves, the only way to properly discard them is to kill them first. Wouldn't want defective products running around."

Ginger turned red in the face. "You're horrible! I wish you'd have let me die alone in the slave stocks! You think you can get away with this, but I'll never stop until I get away."

Draco hit her again. As tears of pain welled up in her eyes, she sagged slightly in her chains and averted her gaze. Draco was satisfied. With a flick of his wand, the chains withdrew back into the wall.

"You're going to do as I say, whether you want to or not. No one cares what you want, and no one cares how you feel. Let's make this easy on both of us. If my father sees how defiant you are, he'll order for your termination whether I agree to it or not. If you would like to die a sick, horrible death because you can't learn how to obey you're rightful master, then it's on you. Then I'd have to go out and replace you, which frankly I'd rather not. It was a bitch trying to find a slave worth buying, and I don't care to spend the money again. Follow me, and we'll avoid the mess of dealing with your thick-headed deviance, little girl."

The girl seemed like she was fighting a massive internal battle for several moments before she spoke in a careful, even tone. "It's Ginny."

Draco let her words pass over him. Slaves don't have names, nor do they deserve them. Slaves aren't people. He turned and motioned for her to follow, "If you continue to defy me you will be terminated promptly. I suggest you do as I say. The first rule is to not speak unless spoken to."

Ginny sent his back a hateful glare, but fell into step behind her young master. She knew that if she could find an escape, things would end up okay. Unfortunately, she'd have to comply for now. Do a few easy tasks for the rich brat, probably shine his shoes and make his bed. She'd act like a dutiful servant for a while as she mapped the whole place out. Eventually she'd be exposed to every area of the mansion. She'd have to take notes, memorize the place. Plan an escape route. Then when no one was looking, run like a bat out of hell. Maybe she could find the resistance. That would be her only hope.

Draco enjoyed the silence as he made way back to his quarters, plans for his first real use of his new slave hatching in his mind.

OoO


	4. Altered

**Disclaimer: I'm not making any money off this, its just for fun and the characters are JK Rowling's.**

**A/N: I'm not sure what I think of this chapter… I might go back and rewrite it. Tell me what you guys think!**

**OoO**

Draco was determined. She had to understand what she was and learn to obey him. What better way to do it than to threaten her into submission? It wouldn't do to just let her run her mouth and defy him. Of course, he was allowed to punish her as he saw fit, which included a vast range of fun forms of torture he could choose from.

Draco contemplated punishing her. If she kept up her attitude, he'd end up spending loads of time on setting her straight. He would much rather own a proper slave than waste his time constantly parenting. He just didn't have the patience to sit around and wait for her to change. He had to act fast, and threatening her with the worst of the worst was probably the only way.

Draco was always an impatient person. He always got what he wanted, when he wanted, and he certainly never had to wait. It just simply wouldn't do.

Draco cast a sideways glance at Ginger. She was eerily quiet and emotionless. Draco frowned. Maybe it was more fun when she was all fiery. Perhaps he shouldn't have threatened to kill her just yet, if she was going to be so dull. At least then he could enjoy getting a rise out of her every now and then.

Draco had brought her to his personal library. What was with all his over-analytical thoughts? He really needed to stop thinking so much. Maybe after he was finished with his experiment he'd feel better.

"Sit on the sofa," Draco commanded. The girl sat down without a glance in his direction. Head tilted down, she remained quiet. It was almost unnerving. Had he broken her already?

Draco smiled to himself. He originally had several wicked ideas for finally putting the bitch to use, but a new one crossed his mind.

Potions. Where were the potions books? There were hundreds of books piled up and they were all supposedly organized by the house-elves. It seemed, though, that there was no order whatsoever.

There it was. Hanging slightly over the edge of the shelf was a monster of a book, with a ratty leather cover. Draco recognized it instantly. _Unthinkable Potions: Not for the Faint of Heart._

Snatching the book eagerly, Draco returned to the table across from Ginger. Sending her a quick look of interest, he began scanning the contents page. This book seemed to have every nasty, irreversible, potent potion that one could think of. Towards the bottom of the list, one particular potion label caught his eye. Indura Amorium.

Dust drifted into his face as he flipped the pages to find the potion. Page 592. There was celtic knot-work all around the borders of the page. The top of the page read: _Beware, this potente potion should not be handled by unskilled wizards. Only powerful masters may continue._

_Combine these dark materials to produce the strongest irreversible potion known to wizard-kind. Once consumed, it will render the drinkers to be permanently connected. _Draco frowned. It looked as if some of the words had faded out, or were purposefully altered. A word was scratched out between "irreversible" and "potion" , and "control" was written in above it. Would it be smart to make this when the instructions were tampered with?

He contemplated practicing new hexes on her instead. However, the thought of mind control intrigued him. It wouldn't hurt to try something new, especially if it would ensure that he had the upper hand over her whenever he wanted. If she resisted him, he would simply tell her how to think.

Below the long list of ingredients and complex instructions was a small row of fine print that read "_Two must drink this potion for full effect."_

Draco scoffed. A potion for two? He was hoping only Gingery would have to drink it. But then, would it have a desirable effect? It was a control potion. Draco knew little about control potions, except that one person could control another at will.

The ingredients were disgusting, at best. Bat heartstring, muggle-blood, red mushrooms, and the like. One of the perks to being part of one of the most powerful dark families in the country was access to almost anything one could desire. And that included dark materials such as spell-books, rare ingredients, weapons, and other such illicit things.

Draco ordered Ginger to stay put and headed off towards his father's private store-room. He had been in there once before, and knew it was full of jars of wicked things, mystery boxes, and caged creatures. After numerous attempts at unlocking spells, he finally gained access. It was just as he remembered.

Rows upon rows of bookshelves lined with jars and potions. There were small boxes, and a few hefty looking gold chests at the end of the room, and what looked like cages covered in blankets. One by one, he picked out the various ingredients until he had them all. Lucius' hoarding habits had really paid off for Draco.

Within moments, Draco had returned to his library where Ginger awaited in her seat. She looked troubled, but still did not look at him. As a matter of fact, she seemed to be looking in the opposite direction out of defiance.

Draco smirked. Once he broke her, he'd be a master of mind control and could use his skill in the future to get his way with pretty much anything he wanted.

Draco pulled his old cauldron over to his lab table and lit the fire with a flick of his wand.

He then began carefully reading the instructions, careful not to miss a beat. It was the most complex thing he'd ever tried to make. Grind the bat heartstrings into a fine sand and mix with carefully cubed root of asphodel. Add two flasks of muggle-blood to the cauldron, and stir twice clockwise, three times counterclockwise, and once clockwise. Add two more drops of blood, and stir once more clockwise.

Draco went down the steps, adding, chopping, and mixing in the various rare and repulsive ingredients.

At last, a bluish smoke rose from his cauldron. The list did not say anything about a blue smoke, but Draco was sure he'd done everything right.

"Ginger, come over here."

She shot him a scathing look and stalked over to him.

She finally spoke, a rare shine in her eye. "Anything is better than living like you're not human."

"You aren't."

She did not reply as a distant look settled over her features.

Disappointing. Oh well. "Open up, let's get this over with."

The girl did not budge. "I'm not drinking that. While you were gone I read the pages, and I'm not going to let you do this. I'd rather die than be under your control for the rest of my life."

Draco's temper flared. "Why can't you just accept the fact that you don't have a choice? You never have, and you never will! You are here instead of locked up in some filthy dungeon while vile old men stare at you to measure your worth. I could make your life a living hell, and yet I don't! I rescued your pathetic mud-blood ass from suffering. Now, do as I say."

The girl's defiance seemed to drain as she eyed the vial of sludge. Should she fight until she died, or was following the stupid boy's orders and living a life of servitude be better?

"Is there a way to fix it if something goes wrong?" she asked quietly.

"No," he flashed her a wicked grin and forced the flask to her mouth. She finally swallowed down the contents, her eyes watering as it seared down her throat and into her stomach. Once the potion was down, she fell to the floor clutching her stomach.

Draco watched in dismay. Nothing else seemed to happen. So the potion was really for two? Draco took a deep breath and swallowed his own flask. Instantly he felt hot searing pain as the potion traveled through his body. The heat was so overwhelming he felt like he would die if he didn't instantly have water. He had fallen beside Ginger, and it was incredibly difficult to breathe.

Instantly the pain stopped. Feeling slightly dizzy, Draco rose to his feet. Ginger was shakily rising to her feet next to him.

Draco decided to try out the potion. He felt no different. He didn't feel some sort of weird connection to Ginger's mind. He felt nothing at all but a dull headache. He must have made the potion wrong. Would there be side effects? His father was going to be pissed when he found out.

Draco lifted his head to look at Ginger, hoping that maybe eye contact would help the potion take effect. The moment their eyes met, Draco instantly doubled over, stomach bile flowing onto the floor. He could hear her doing the same. What was wrong with them? The potion wasn't supposed to do this..

When at last the nausea went away, Draco made another effort to connect with her mind. Nothing. He was alone in his head, and he couldn't sense her thoughts. Well, what a waste of time that turned out to be, not to mention all the precious ingredients he'd wasted.

Draco hazarded another look into Ginger's eyes.

Instantly, he felt his entire body heat up. He could not look away. It was as if there was a magnet between them pulling them together, and yet he wasn't moving. Her eyes drew him in, and he felt as though he could be trapped for ever in those crystal pools. He subconsciously stepped towards her. His body and thoughts were out of his control. He could only think of one thing, skin contact. Touch her. Kiss her. Her lips were full and red, calling to him.

She was beautiful, and she was his for the taking. He reached out a hand to touch her face. The moment their skin made contact, a warm buzzing feeling flooded throughout his body.

His mind suddenly quieted, and the warmth faded. He was suddenly aware of what he was doing. What he was _thinking._

"Shit!" Draco's face reddened in anger. "Oh merlin! What have I done?"

Ginger eyed him intently. He was so handsome, especially now that he was riled up. His face flushed, and his eyes a molten grey. His hair fell in front of his face as he paced the room, silently raging. She was tempted to reach out and touch him, kiss him, run her fingers through that hair…

Ginger seemed to suddenly snap out of her own reverie, and doubled backwards, falling onto her backside. Her hands flew to her face as she realized what had occurred between them, and what she had been thinking about.

"Is that a love potion?" She asked tentatively, heart racing as she realized the implications of a permanent love potion to her wretched pure-blood master.

"No, you silly girl! I was supposed to be able to control you, but no, this is definitely not what it was supposed to do! If my father knew… he'd have me tortured. What the fuck am I going to do now? Shit!"

"You're babbling, shut up! Just tell me what's wrong with us and see if we can fix it!" She snapped back, growing impatient.

He ignored her. "I should have known when the instructions were changed. I never should have done this. I should have just stuck with hex experiments. Fuck! I wanted to.. Well, never mind."

"Hello? Earth to Pure-blood brat?"

"It's a lust potion," Draco snarled, turning his back to her. He began rummaging through the stack of books he pulled out earlier. "There's got to be a way to reverse this…"

Ginger's eyes widened. Lust potion? She'd never felt so revolted in her entire life.

Draco was in big trouble. He couldn't let his father find out. And there was no way in hell he'd let himself be attracted to the mud-blood bitch. He'd find a way to reverse the potion. What if it got stronger over time? Would there be side effects? He needed to go see the best potions-master he knew, as soon as possible.

"I'll fix this. Go back to your cell." Ginger looked affronted at the blunt order, especially after what was happening, but turned and stalked out of the library.

Draco was in deep. Real deep.


	5. Impulsive

What a mess. Draco had never been so frustrated in his entire life. It had been a week since the potion incident, and he could hardly look at his own slave without wanting to snog her senseless. It was as though the more time passed, the stronger the urge got.

Draco tried to be tasteful about it. He kept her out of his sight as often as possible, choosing to be in her company only when entirely necessary. Lucius had noticed his suspicious activity, but Draco hadn't had the nerve yet to explain the situation to him. He knew the consequences of fooling with such potions would be severe, especially given the effect this particular one had.

For once Draco was glad that his father was such a busy man and his mother never around. Even when they did cross paths, Draco knew how to dodge most questions aimed his way. A shrug and ambiguous response were enough to throw them off, not that they really cared what Draco was up to anyway.

The most important thing to do was to contact the best potions master in the area, Severus Snape. Snape was highly respected among the elite, especially for his ability to decipher the ingredients and antidotes to essentially every potion in existence. He was also keenly adept at creating new potions, and took up independent brewing contracts. Severus Snape was responsible for nearly all the dark-magic related concoctions out there.

Secretly, Draco had always been itching to meet the man. And at this point he was ready to pay in galleons just to see what advice he'd receive. He'd sent three letters by express post by now, to no avail.

What would happen if Snape ignored him forever? Would he be doomed to an eternal attraction to a mudblood? She was attractive, but no… she wouldn't do.

What would the neighbors think of such a pairing? His future children would be banned from the family fortune, not to mention the contempt, if not pure hatred, that people would have for the lot of them. No one took kindly to those of less than pure lineage. At best, he'd be shunned and scorned. At worst… he'd rather not think about it.

Draco paced around his private quarters, restless. He thought about summoning Ginger, making her useful. He was afraid, in a general way, of what would happen if he was alone with her in his room. Every time he set eyes on her, he stifled a strong, primal urge to just tear her clothes of and have his way with her. He cringed at the thought, repulsed and yet excited at the image of her naked and disgusted by the thought of touching her.

It really was a shame she was so beautiful. Of course, he'd never admit that. The fleeting thought crossing his mind had nearly caused him to hemorrhage. What would father think if he knew what was on his son's mind?

Draco sighed in exasperation and threw open his balcony doors, stepping into the sunlight. It really was a beautiful day. Draco leaned against the railing, taking in the view of the manor property. His eyes roamed the scene below him until they rested upon the best feature, the garden. Narcissa Malfoy was an expert gardener, and the gated off patch of land was extravagant, overflowing with the most precious and exotic flowers that could be found. The house-elves had to be praised; they did a damn good job keeping up with the maintenance spell-work. Not a single flower lay dead or wilted.

Just as attractive as the flowers was the fountain. It was a huge ivory statue of a unicorn, the water falling from its horn. Draco used to hide away there when he was younger, soothed by the sound of the water. Everyone knew unicorns were extinct, and that fact alone made the statue precious to the Malfoy heir.

Draco was the sole heir to the entire Malfoy fortune, and would one day take Lordship over the manor. A smile flitted across his face as he envisioned himself as head of the Manor. Everyone would obey and respect him. He would be second best to none as Lord Malfoy, leader of the single most powerful family in Britain.

Then again, if he was so powerful and special, why was he fretting over an issue with a mud-blood? He just couldn't keep her off his mind. She was a threat to his rights, his power. He never should have bought that stupid bitch. Then again, it was his fault for experimenting on her.

But how could he gain knowledge of the dark arts and grow to be the strongest wizard of the age if he didn't try out new things? Hogwarts was nothing. Arithmancy and Defense Against the Dark Arts were hardly worth the time it took to flip a page over in the books. They taught nothing of substance, wasting years preparing students for the OWL exams.

Draco never took the OWLS, his father had paid a few ministry officials to get him out of it. And then two years later, he'd been removed from school during the final days, when the death-eaters were preparing their assault. Lucius had not wanted his only son to be caught in the cross-fire.

Originally, Draco had felt that it was a shame all of the mud-bloods and half-bloods had not been killed off during the final battle. Now Draco viewed them as opportunities to improve himself.

Ginger passed through his mind. What a bad opportunity she'd turned out to be. It was all her fault this was happening.

With a pop, Draco apparated to his private dungeon. There she sat, stone-faced and silent in the corner of her cell. He noticed her catch sight of him, noticed the slight shiver that ran down her body.

Was she afraid of him? She should have been. He was in a foul mood.

"What are you on about, making the potion go wrong?" he snarled, grabbing onto the bars of her cell door.

"Me? What the hell? You're the one who made it and forced it down my throat!" she hissed, jumping to her feet.

"I was supposed to be able to control your mind! There must be something wrong with you. You're defective, I should have you terminated." he unlocked the door and kicked it open, stalking over to her.

"Leave me alone, I didn't do anything wrong. It's not my fault that your daddy didn't teach you anything about magic. Are you sure you're a pureblood? You do a bad job acting like it."

Draco's eyes darkened as he stepped towards her, surprisingly calm. She backed away, slightly afraid now, and ended up against the wall.

"For someone with such a bold mouth, you're really in no position to be so brave," he whispered, now within a foot of her.

He could hear her breathing rapidly now, she remained still as he stood in front of her.

He boldly stared her down, away from her wide, glossy eyes down to her neckline. He followed his vision lower, watching as her chest rose and fell rapidly, the edge of her cleavage slightly visible above her uniform.

Her face turned a deep shade of red as his gaze lingered on her breasts. The urge came back, this time in full force, stronger than it had ever been. He wanted to know what those plump mounds felt like against his skin. She was beautiful, after all. Her blood didn't matter, Malfoys always get what they want. Why should this be any different?

In a flash, he was on her, kissing her neck, running his hands down her sides. She kicked at him as she tried to push him away. He simply moved his body against hers, blocking her defenses in one swift motion.

He stopped his attentions to hold her hands against the wall behind her, steely grey eyes locked on blue. "You want this as much as I do," he panted, "you can't deny me of what I want."

"No! Get your filthy hands off of me!" she screamed, struggling against his body and hands. "You can't do this!"

"Actually, I believe I can do whatever I want," he hissed, grinding his hips against her. Her eyes widened in fear and revulsion as she felt the evidence of his want for her against her leg.

His body was on fire, she could feel the heat through her clothes. His chest was an inch from hers, but she could see the definition of his muscles through the thin shirt he was wearing. She blushed when she realized that she liked what she saw, silently berating herself. She forced herself to push him away.

"Look at me." He commanded, turning her face towards his. Her eyes were closed shut.

He suddenly felt a surge of remorse. It felt foreign to him, but he decided maybe he could chance treating her better. Maybe he shouldn't try to force her. Maybe he should see if she wanted this as well. "Hey, look at me, please?" he softened his grip, but still held onto her.

She opened her eyes, surprised at the sudden change in his attitude.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you," his voice was light. "I just can't help this.. It's all I've been able to think about, ever since.. " his voice trailed off as he held her gaze. "I know you've had the same thing happen to you."

Her normally bright blue eyes had darkened, like the midnight sky. Her mind was confused, repulsed, angry and excited all at once. She hated herself for it, but truthfully she'd been craving his attention more and more every day since the potion incident. Maybe she should just go with it. She forced her mind to shut down as she relaxed into his grip. Her body had won over.

He pressed a kiss against her lips, this time gentle. He hoped she would go with it.

After a few moments, she finally responded, running her tongue along his lip, requesting entrance. He brought his wand hand away from her and broke the kiss for a moment, whispering a series of spells that she couldn't understand. Her body gave a slight jolt, as if Malfoy had roughly pulled her from the wall. Within seconds the cell had transformed.

They were now in a dimly lit room, it's main feature a huge four-poster bed. The blankets and sheets were of emerald green satin; they felt cool as Draco pushed her onto her back on the bed. He stepped away for a moment, flicking his wand towards a fire-place at the end of the room.

"How did you do that?" she whispered in awe.

"It's not hard to light a fire when you're a wizard," he replied with a smirk.

"Not that… this room..," she trailed off as his robe and shirt suddenly disappeared. He stood before her, tall and intimidating. His body glowed pale in the dim light, chest muscles rippling and defined. .

He could no longer wait. He wanted her, and he'd have her.

OoOoO

As he finished, he fell onto her, breathless and tired. Almost as suddenly as he'd felt the urge, he felt the heat drain from his body. He felt ice cold, his skin almost painful as he rested against her.

He flung himself away from her and scrambled to his feet. He gazed down at her, and at himself as the realization of what he'd just done, and who he'd done it with, settled in. His stomach retched. He hastily undid the bedroom spells.

Without a backwards glance, Draco cast the spell to re-cloth them both, and bolted from the dungeon. He ran as fast as he could to his room and slammed the door shut. Leaning back against his door, he took a deep breath. What had he done?


	6. Chapter 6

It was midnight, and Draco lay sprawled across his bed, deep in thought.

There was no going back. Draco knew that he had done possibly the stupidest thing he'd ever done in his life. What happened to him? He had wanted her so badly. A few fleeting moments of absolute desire. The feeling was gone seemingly as soon as it had come. He felt defiled, diseased. Dirty.

In truth, he'd been drawn to her the moment he set eyes on her back at Pucey's shop. He'd wondered what her skin would feel like against his, wondered what secrets lay beneath those tattered, filthy robes. He hated himself for it. Knew he shouldn't want her. She was everything he couldn't have, everything he wasn't allowed to even think about.

His interest had become so much stronger after taking his share of that blasted potion. He'd never felt it before, that primal urge. Irreversibly and inexplicably filled with lust.

He knew she'd wanted it too. She'd given in to him so easily, practically melting at his touch. Did she also have a secret desire for him? Or was it just an effect of the potion? The thing Draco pondered the most was just what effect the potion truly had, and to what extent. He had some research to do.

Draco could wait idly no longer to hear from the revered potions master. Stepping lightly out of his room, he shut his door as quietly as possible. He moved along the shadows, a symbol of swiftness and stealth. No one could know about his mission.

Upon reaching the foyer, he apparated to the edge of the grounds and summoned his broom. He soared into the night sky, cloaked in black. To on-lookers below he might have appeared to be nothing more than a dark shadow briefly passing across the stars.

He was a man on a mission. He'd taken this route toward Snape's once before, to spy on his parents who were doing "secret" tasks for the Dark Lord. The minutes drew on as the air grew colder. He'd passed London some time ago, and could see the distant lights of the small village in which he would soon arrive. At long last, he hovered above the silent graveyard. Gently landing on the grass, he stepped over the fresh mounds of dirt. Snape's home was just across the street. He could see candle light glowing from the front window. Good, the man was probably home.

Draco took a deep breath as he walked up the last few steps. This was it, he was about to find some answers. He knocked lightly on the door and took a step back, waiting.

Within moments, the door creaked open. Snape peered into the darkness to view his visitor. A flash of blond hair from beneath the cloak of a hooded figure.

"Draco? Draco Malfoy?" Curiosity flitted across his features as he took a step towards the person in front of him.

Draco drew back his hood and bowed his head lightly.

Snape's eyes widened in surprise, "What brings you here?"

"Master Snape," came Draco's drawling voice. "I come to seek your assistance, I have much to ask you."

"I supposed as much," Severus stepped aside, motioning for Draco to enter. "I have received your letters, but I know that such matters should be discussed, not written. I have been waiting for you to come to me."

Draco raised an eyebrow, but proceeded to follow Severus into the livingroom. Severus motioned for Draco to take a seat, and left the room.

Draco sank deep into the cushions, taking in his surroundings. Snape wasn't much of a decorator, the place was rather bland and tacky. It needed a female touch. His mother would work wonders on a place like this. It was a rather cold, uncomfortable place, which was surprising given the man's fame.

Snape returned with a tray of tea cups, and took a seat across from Draco.

"You've been waiting for me to come here to talk to you?" Draco addressed the older man, leaning forward to take a cup of tea. The liquid burned hot as it passed through his lips and down his throat. His whole body felt immediately warmer.

"Of course. Do not believe that I would leave such questions to chance. There is much to explain."

Draco remained silent, waiting for the older man to begin.

Snape set his own cup back upon the table. He wondered idly if Draco would be able to grasp the reality of what he was about to tell him.

"You must understand the deep, complicated nature of potion-making. It is no wonder that precise and exact instructions have been recorded to most known potions. Should you make mistakes, the brew is very likely to effect the drinker in unpredictable ways.

"I already know that," Draco snapped impatiently. "Tell me what I don't already know."

Snape shot him a dirty look for the impertinence, but continued on. "Be patient, boy. Now, as I was saying. The delicate nature of potions-making is nothing to trifle with. The way the human body reacts is very unpredictable…" he trailed off, pausing a moment to sip his tea. He looked closely at Draco's face, intrigued by the intensity etched into his young features.

"It appears that you had attempted to create a potion that would affect the mental state of its targets. It was mind control, I believe?"

Draco nodded curtly, hanging onto the man's every word.

"And yet you have received no connection to, nor control over, the recipient's mind?"

Draco thought for a moment and then nodded. That much was true. Whatever effects the potion was having, they certainly did not include mind control.

"Think, and be honest with yourself. Did you follow every single step exactly as described in the instructions?"

"I thought I did," Draco shrugged, frowning.

"Clearly, you did not. I recall most of what you told me in your letters… but forgive me, I do not remember everything. Please tell me exactly what happened after the both of you swallowed the potion.

"Well.. honestly, we both got sick. I was disappointed, seeing as I felt no different. I was expecting to feel some sort of openness, or ability to look into her mind. Nothing had changed, or at least that's what I thought. But then I looked into her eyes and-" Draco cut himself off, unable to continue. The truth was extremely embarrassing. What would Snape think if he knew what had been going on in Draco's head? Or what he'd done after the fact? Draco squirmed in his seat.

Snape waited patiently. He could tell the boy was very uncomfortable with revealing whatever had happened.

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. "I wanted her," he whispered.

Snape raised an eyebrow at Draco. "Explain?"

"I… I was attracted to her. I wanted to snog her senseless. And when I touched her my skin felt like it was on fire."

Snape's face paled. "You mean to say you had a sexual attraction for her?"

Draco nodded slowly, diverting his eyes away from Snape's piercing gaze.

"Merlin's beard. Have you ever acted on your impulses?"

"Well… I.."

"Draco, you need to tell me the truth. Tell me, did you have any intimate contacts with the girl you shared the potion with?"

"Yes, not long after. I don't know why. I had fully intended on punishing her for making everything go wrong. It was her fault that this happened. Instead of showing her my wrath, I.. engaged myself with her."

"Draco, this is very bad. Very bad." The potions-master's said grimly.

"What?" Draco snapped. "What do you mean?"

"This has happened before. Other wizards, those of less than perfect skill, have attempted this very potion. The same thing happened to them, and it changed their lives forever."

"Sir, what exactly happened to them?" Butterflies welled up in Draco's stomach. He feared the worst.

"A connection so primal, so animalistic had ingested into their beings. They were connected for life. It became a contract so to speak. They were able to mate with that person alone forever. If they so much as thought of another woman in such a way, their bodies burned from the inside out. Most of these men suffered such severe damages, they were never the same. Many died, others just went insane."

Draco gulped, "You can't be serious. Please tell me that it isn't true."

"Oh, dear boy but it is true. There are even further complications still. The potion creates a bond so strong that it is more willful than any dark curse or even the unbreakable vow. Attempting to destroy this connection would, unfortunately, likely destroy the persons involved."

Draco held his head in his hands. He never could have imagined that he would be in this situation. Something so foolish, something so small, had never gone so incredibly wrong. "You're sure that this cant be reversed?" his voice was hopeful, he clung onto the idea that something could be done to get him out of his mess.

"Nothing can help you, Draco. Tell me, what blood status is the woman?"

"She's a filthy mudblood, sir." Draco snarled at the word mudblood, disgusted by the thought of being bound to her. The world would never accept it, and neither could he.

"That isn't possible Draco. The connection can only be made between a wizard and a muggle woman, or a pureblood witch."

"What?" Draco hissed. "That can't be. Muggles are extinct. And she can't be a pureblood, I bought her from a slave post. She was as dirty and foul as they come. I was informed that she was a problematic mudblood, and she looked like nothing more."

Draco stood abruptly and began pacing the tiny living-room. "There is no way that she could be a witch! She doesn't possess magic! If she did, she'd never have been sold into slavery. Blood Hunters would never be daft enough to make that mistake. The punishment for that is worse than death."

"Draco, listen to me. Someone made a mistake. It is wholly impossible for the potion to backfire into a Lovers Bond unless the two parties are completely the same or exact opposites."

"You're wrong," Draco snarled, glaring at the man who remained seated in front of him.

"Draco, you must believe me. The situation is very serious." Snape frowned, knowing that it would be difficult to convince the boy of the absolute reality of the situation and how dangerous it was.

"Who would have thought that one of the smartest wizards alive could be so stupid?" Draoc ranted, rage growing as his frustrations all sprang to life. It was like dam broke inside him, and a heaviness was coursing through his body.

"Draco, you have to see reason. I am only trying to help you. No one else could guide you through this but me."

"What kind of guide are you? You don't know anything!" Draco spat, turning on the spot and bolting out of the house.

Without a backwards glance, he disappeared up into the night sky.

Snape sighed in frustration. Whether the boy liked it or not, he'd eventually have to see reason. He'd be back for help soon enough. In the meantime, Snape had some dangerous work to do. No one could find out about Draco, or there would be hell to pay.


	7. Chapter 7

Snape was a fool. A blundering idiot. He knew nothing! How could he dare tell Draco that he was bound to that little wench? If it was a prank, it wasn't funny. Snape would pay for it. No one was allowed to make a Malfoy suffer.

Then again, what if the hook-nosed man was telling the truth? What if he really was forced to make the girl his wife, and produce an heir with her?

Draco's head ached. He couldn't deal with this.

For the next few days, he was angry all the time, and avoided the girl at all costs. At this rate, he knew he would either try to kill her, or bed her. If he tried to kill her, who knew what would happen? Would he die too?

And the lust. If only he could figure out how to get rid of that particular effect. He didn't like the feeling that he was able to lose control. Malfoy's aren't allowed to be impulsive.

Maybe he should throw caution to the wind and kill the bitch. This whole ordeal was all her fault!

Draco's arm burned with a familiar ache. The dark lord was calling him. That only meant one thing. The dark lord needed his service. Perhaps this was a good thing. Maybe he could get his mind off his problems for a little while.

Very quietly, he tiptoed throughout the mansion, and escaped all the way to the end of the dirt drive-way. He glanced back, and as he suspected, no one had followed him. Good.

Draco crossed the threshold, and apparated into the darkness.

OoO

With a thud, Draco landed on the ground. Damn. He really needed to get better at his arrivals.

He dusted himself off, and peered into the darkness. There it was, at the end of a dark, lonely street. The only house within several miles, directly at the edge of the most feared jungle in the magical world. Some called it Ultima Tierra. The end of the world. Wizards who ventured there, rarely came out alive, and those who survived would never be the same.

Those woods were full of a different kind of magic, an ancient, dark, uncontrollable magic.

Who was crazy enough to make their home at the edge of such a dangerous place?

Truly, it was ingenious. The dark lord had been very smart in picking this location. Few were foolish enough to wander to this place, and for those who were, Voldemort had many protection charms around the property to keep uninvited persons at bay.

Draco wondered if his lord somehow knew about what he'd done. Hopefully he didn't know anything at all and wouldn't ask questions. The thought had crossed his mind that he shouldn't tell anyone else aside from Snape.

Draco whispered a charm, pointing directly at his dark mark, and was immediately transferred to the foyer of the mansion. Brilliant idea, of course.

There was no one in sight; the room was dimly lit in candle light. An eerie silence hung in the air. Where was everyone? Where was the idiot little house-elf that wasted away his days greeting visitors?

Draco stepped carefully into the next room, the grand hall. This was the room where all the festivities were held. Great banquets and ceremonies were held here; attendance was always by people of high importance or notoriety. All dark magic supporters, followers of the one and only Dark Lord. No one was in attendance tonight.

Draco swiftly and nimbly made his way throughout the mansion. It was rather easy to find the Dark Lord's quarters. Perhaps it was because he'd been there too many times to count, though always at the Lord's request. Draco had never sought out his master on his own.

At last, Draco arrived at the heavy bronze door. It swung open as he reached his hand up towards the heavy knocker.

"Enter, Draco," a cold, silky voice floated to Draco's ears.

He cautiously stepped into the room. There, at the far end, sitting in a high-backed stone chair, was Lord Voldemort. He was clothed in a jet black cloak, with one hand beckoning for the boy to come closer.

Scarlet eyes shone from under the hood of the cloak. A shiver crawled down Draco's spine. He'd never liked Voldemort's eyes. Pure evil.

Draco did not consider himself an evil man. His own goals had never been to kill. Truthfully, he just enjoyed the power. Especially when he got to punish filthy mud bloods. He shivered in the presence of the Dark Lord.

"Come closer, Draco."

Draco had come to a stop halfway across the room, a sense of uncertainty growing in the pit of his stomach. Did he know?

A mirthless laugh echoed across the room. "You cannot hide anything from me. Stand before me."

It was an order, one not to be questioned. There would be no getting out of this. Draco had almost forgotten the powers of the Dark Lord. He was the most accomplished legilimens in the wizarding world.

Shit.

"Tell me, Draco, why I called you here."

"Forgive me, my lord, but I do not know."

"The mud blood. It would seem, Draco, that your actions have had some.. undesirable.. consequences."

Draco simply nodded.

"Bring her to me, Draco." Voldemort's order was cold, flat.

"My lord?" Draco hazarded a glance at his master's eyes. He saw a flash of anger.

"Do not disrespect me," the dark lord growled. "Crucio!"

A hot, searing pain swept through Draco's body. It was agony. He had experienced this many times before, and had become accustomed to it. Unlike most others, he did not collapse to the floor. He stood stoic, unmoved. Only a slight tremble came over his form, though his eyes betrayed his pain.

"Crucia," Voldemort muttered.

Draco felt the pain leave his body, and nothing more than a dull ache remained. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips.

"Now, Draco. Bring her to me."

"I beg your pardon, my lord, but what would you want with her?"

"That is my own matter, Draco. You will do as you're told. Do not question me again or you will face my wrath."

"As you wish, my Lord." Draco bowed lightly and turned on his heel. He nearly ran throughout the mansion, nothing but escape on his mind. As soon as he was outside the building, he apparated.

Landing with a soft thud, Draco cursed under his breath. He was tired of landing on his back.

He clambered to his feet and rushed into his home, clumsily running into the door to his own room. He slammed the door shut behind him, and took a deep breath as he sunk to the floor.

Being honest with himself, as much as part of him hated her, Draco admitted that he wouldn't have told Voldemort anything. He had gone there expecting to receive orders. To go out and cause destruction in the wake of his own anger and personal problems. He'd been horribly wrong in his expectations. He'd underestimated the Dark Lord, and not for the first time.

Now he was screwed. He couldn't bring her there. He was afraid of the truth of what Snape told him. What if he really was so magically bound to her? Would killing her kill him as well? Was it possible that she wasn't a mud blood?

Draco's mind reeled. What if she was a pureblood? The thought was completely ludicrous, it was unacceptable for a pureblood to be forced into slavery. Anyone involved in her capture would be sent to death, after torture. It would be complete idiocy and foolishness, and a total lack of self-regard, to do something like enslave a pureblood.

However improbable, it wasn't impossible. There had to have been some sort of motive, or personal vendetta. Or, perhaps, it really was a complete mistake. But how could a pureblood be mistaken for a mud blood?

The only explanation Draco could think of was that she had to have been an orphan. No proof of lineage, and no family to claim her. Would her captors have tested her for magic? That probably wouldn't have been a useful test since they thought she was a mud blood, and mudbloods aren't capable of magic. Any semblance of magical ability they might possess is squashed out of them at a young age.

Maybe she really was a pureblood. Draco's entire understanding of her collapsed. He felt an unfailiar pang of guilt. He had been so brutal to her, treated her so poorly. And he'd never known. He never thought that maybe she wasn't what he thought she was. Was it fair, then, that he felt bad for what he'd done now that her blood status was probably pure? What right did he have to treat her so poorly to begin with? Even if she had been a mudblood, he had been downright cruel to her and she didn't deserve it. Since when did he have a conscience?

He'd violated her, pretending she'd wanted it. Of course, she may have caved in to him in the moment, but deep down he knew it was because of the influence of the potion. She had every right to hate him.

The idea was finally starting to make sense to him. She did have some rare qualities, particularly that rebellious spirit and inability to subject herself to inferiority. Not to mention her beauty.

Did the Dark Lord know all of this? Was he going to kill her? Draco couldn't let that happen. He had to make things right somehow. He needed to find Snape.

Would Snape still help him, after the little outburst he'd had when they last met?

The only way to find out was to go back to Snape. Draco needed a solution, and fast.


	8. Chapter 8

"I knew you'd come back," came Snape's drawling voice from the open doorway.

Draco stepped hesitantly inside. Snape motioned for him to follow, and proceeded throughout the dimly lit home with Draco in tow.

Snape remained silent, as if waiting for Draco to speak. Draco didn't know where to start. There were too many thoughts, most of them dark, disturbing, or depressing, floating through his mind. He was at a loss. He did not know what to expect from the potion's master, but prayed silently that the man would be able to help him.

"Tell me exactly what has occurred since I last saw you," Snape's voice finally floated back to Draco.

"I.. Well, I received a call from the Dark Lord. So I went immediately, expecting the usual." Draco fidgeted with his hands as Snape got comfortable and motioned for Draco to sit down.

Draco slumped into his seat. He knew that Snape, being an ex death-eater, would understand. "I was looking forward to it, actually. Hoping it would make me feel better. But he did not ask anything of me except to bring her to him. He knew without me saying anything. I think.. I think he wants to kill her." Draco bit out his last statement like it was the dirtiest thing he'd ever said. He recognized his emotion instantly; guilt.

"Of course he does," Snape said snidely. "He is well aware of the lore of dark magic, especially those spells and potions that have to do with blood purity."

"So, what.. He wants to kill her because of what I did with her? What's it got to do with him?"

"Draco, you must think! Use your brain, I know it's somewhere in that thick head of yours. Everyone knows your family possesses some of the strongest, most powerful magical abilities in the country."

"So what?" Draco was getting annoyed, it seemed as if the conversation was going nowhere, and he needed solutions… fast.

Snape rolled his eyes, "Just come with me and I'll explain." He led the blond boy to the end of the hall, ending at a huge wooden door, and whispering a spell, unlocked it.

Draco followed Snape inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dim candlelight. The room was huge, and filled with shelves upon shelves of books. "What's all this, your personal library?"

"You could say that," Snape gestured to the couch in the center of the room. Draco took a seat.

"These books are rare. Most of them, they are the only copies ever made. All of them are full of dark spells and potions. But let's get to the point. Draco, you must not forget, this woman is a pureblood, and we do not know the extent to her power."

"She doesn't seem to have magic," Draco interupted. "I've never seen her try anything."

Snape took a seat beside Draco. "That's because she does not know what she is capable of, and neither does anyone else since she is not allowed to have a wand. Her magical ability is very important. There is a prophecy that threatens and frightens the Dark Lord, and he has made sure to keep very quiet about it. When I served him I was one of the privileged ones I guess, since I knew everything the he himself knew. I was practically his second brain back when I was a follower."

"A prophecy?" Draco asked incredulously, brows raised.

Snape paused, as if trying to decide how to say his next point. "Yes. You see, it is said that when the Dark Lord reaches his height of power, a man and woman of indefinite power will overthrow him and bring light back into the world. The man and woman possess strong, untapped powers that are connected and strengthened by a special, unnatural magical connection. Separate, the two are average, at best. But together, they are an unstoppable force, capable of everything and anything."

Draco snorted in disbelief. "This has nothing to do with me. I admit I am strong, but there is no way that this, this girl, this slave, could possess any magic comparable to mine even if she is a pureblood. We could never be the people in that prophecy."

"That is where you are wrong, Draco. This bond is incredibly rare. It happens maybe only once a few hundred years. And, as a matter of fact, it typically happens only to a pair of people who are both exceptionally powerful. As of yet, there have been no incidences of the Lover's bond among lesser wizards."

Snape had to be wrong. This bond only occurred once every few centuries, and only to powerful people. He was hearing that his potion had connected him to a woman with whom he could probably rule the world with. Impossible. Improbable.

Could it be true?

"How do you know this?" Draco sighed, slumping back into the couch. He couldn't be sure if this was good news, or horrible news. He didn't think his power was all that exceptional, and given that he'd believed her to be a mud blood he certainly didn't believe that she had any special power. And now he'd probably signed both their death warrants. He was almost surprised that the Dark Lord hadn't killed them both already.

"I am an educated man, Draco. I know these things just like I know dark magic. I know it inside and outside, and you need to accept the truth. You are stuck with this woman, and you are now both in very real danger."

"If you're right about all this, what can I do? Just sit and wait for the inevitable? I thought it was bad enough being in this bonded to a girl I'd thought to be worthless. Now I find out that she's probably one in a million, and we're both going to die for it."

Snape shot Draco a scathing look. "You know, you could be a very good person if you tried, but what with you're superiority attitude, you make things very difficult for yourself. Maybe you should learn how to use your own brain instead of letting your Father hand-feed you his uppity ideologies."

Draco hissed, "Don't speak of my father like that. Just tell me what I can do. That's what I came here for. If you can't help me, then I will help myself to the door." Draco did not like hearing other people criticize him or his family, especially things that were negative, and true.

Draco began to wish he'd never even bought her. He wouldn't be in this whole mess if he hadn't been so gung-ho about buying a slave. He'd been acting so immature, and now he was going to pay for it, probably with his life. Things couldn't possibly get any worse than this.

"Listen," Snape's voice held a touch of sympathy. "I strongly urge you to explain everything to her, let her know the truth about your connection, and especially about her lineage. She needs to figure things out. The two of you may be able to start educating yourselves so that when the time is right, you can work together to overcome anything that comes your way."

"But what if I don't have that kind of time? For all I know, the Dark Lord could have people outside my home, waiting for me."

"No, Draco. He underestimates you. He fears you may be the one the prophecy speaks of, but he would not believe, even for a moment, that you are smart enough to figure all of this out and take advantage of it. No, he wont come for you, yet. He will expect you to hand-feed him the girl, and then he will care of things as he pleases."

"What if it isn't even us? What if he tries to kill us, when we aren't even a threat to him."

"Draco, stop fighting it. Accept the truth. The two of you are, indeed, those in the prophecy. You are the world's hope for change."

"So what do I do, just talk to her, then what?"

"Be patient, Draco. Like I said. You are permanently bonded to her, and only her. You have time to figure everything out. Just talk to her. Go now, get started."

Draco rose from his seat, and nodded to the hook-nosed man. "I guess I have to, then. I'll lay low for now, and I'll come see you again after I've got everything sorted out with her."

Snape nodded. He pitied Draco. The boy had a lot of growing up to do, and this would be one of the biggest lessons of his life.


	9. Chapter 9

A strong wind gusted and blew open the heavy windows beside Draco's four-poster bed.

Draco took no notice. He was deep in thought, pacing back and forth across his room. A cold shiver went down his spine, perhaps from the ice-cold fear washing throughout his body.

Should he go talk to her now? He'd been acting rudely towards her for days, either being angry with her or completely indifferent. Of course, secretly he always felt sorry for his attitude almost immediately after, but he hadn't told her that. The truth of the matter was, he knew he could be handling the situation much better… if he could just swallow his pride.

If he could just fully admit that it was his insolent, pure-blood maniacal attitude that got him here in the first place. He had passed through so many emotional phases that he felt as if up was down and right was left. How could you go from feeling on top of the world, with all of life's pleasures right at your feet, including control and influence over others and loads of money… down to a humbled man with a shaky future?

He'd sure been taken down a few notches. Especially when he heard that Ginny couldn't be a mudblood, after all… and he'd been so cruel to her…

He knew he had to talk to her, that would be a start. What could he say? He knew he should discuss every little detail with her that Snape had told him.

His mind was a train-wreck. Not to mention that his heart fluttered whenever he pictured her face in his mind, or when he shot her looks in passing. Only recently he'd let her wander freely, somehow knowing that she wouldn't try to take off and leave him, not yet anyway.

Did she still feel it too? That impulse, that pull to be near him, the same pull that he always felt whenever she was in his vicinity?

That potion was clearly still in full-effect. Draco had not forgotten the urges he'd had last time he allowed himself to be alone with her for more than a few minutes.

Hopefully he could handle a serious conversation with her, without his mind,… or hands, wandering astray.

At least he wasn't angry or hot-headed this time. Draco dimly noted fear's cooling effect.

He couldn't wait any longer.

OoOoO

"Algar," Draco called out softly, stepping into the library he'd taken Ginger to on the fateful day of the potion's disaster.

With a loud crack, Algar appeared in front of him. The servant gave a hasty bow, and then returned to full posture, silently awaiting his orders.

"Bring me Ginger, immediately," Draco's voice sounded unnaturally high. He was nervous, and admittedly, scared. Talking with Snape, though frustrating and shocking, had at least been predictable in the sense that he was aware of how much more knowledge the older man possessed.

This time, Draco was the one with all the knowledge. And it almost felt like just talking about the situation _with her _would make it all so much more real…

Inescapable.

Damning.

Within a few minutes, Algar reappeared with the silent, but fiery red-head in tow.

She sent Draco a glare, then averted her gaze, purposefully staring towards the far window.

"Please leave us be, Algar," Draco ordered softly. As Algar apparated from the spot with another loud crack, the fear in Draco's chest began to dissipate.

They were alone, intentionally and purposefully, for the first time in quite a while. And this time, Draco wasn't hell-bent on destroying every last cell in her body.

He began to feel calmer as he tried to organize his thoughts.

He did not know where to begin.

Draco took a seat on one end of the couch in the center of the room, and motioned for her to sit in the chair across from him.

She took the seat, shooting him a dubious look. She was not pleased. She was attracted to him as much as she was before, but she would never forget the way he treated her… the things he'd said to her…

"Listen… there is a lot I need to talk with you about… And-"

She scoffed. "Like you care what I have to say, or what I think? You might as well not bother talking 'with' me at all."

Draco sent her an icy glare, choosing to ignore her interruption. "That's why I called you in here. You might get angry, or maybe even not believe most of what I'm about to tell you, but you need to listen to me anyway. Nothing is more important than this."

She rolled her eyes, but stayed seated, and didn't have another comeback.

Draco assumed he could begin explaining everything to her.

"First, let me apologize for what I did to you that night in your cell. It was wrong."

Ginny rolled her eyes. He was sorry? Yeah right. He'd probably never been sorry a day in his life.

Draco took a deep breath, and voice shaking, began his explanation. "I don't really know how to go about explaining this, but… the potion I made us take? I found out exactly what it did to us, and what it means about our futures."

He paused, waiting for her reaction.

Ginny stared hard at him. She hadn't believed that he would actually try to figure anything out… she'd assumed that he was going to just let the situation blow over. She nodded for him to continue.

Good, she was listening.

"Look… the bottom line, is someone tampered with the instructions, and I ended up creating something called a Lover's bond. It's a connection that can only work between either two muggles, or two pure-bloods. That means you aren't a mud blood… actually, you have to be pure-blood, because I'm not a muggle and neither are you … but we'll talk about that a little more later on…"

Draco was rambling on, but Ginny was stuck on only a few of his words. She could be a pureblood? And yet she was sold into slavery? She was living a damnable life because some idiot failed his Keepers exam? Even the dumbest of mud-bloods could probably figure out how to detect traces of usable magic, if given the opportunity…

Her thoughts were going off on their own track. She silently berated herself and tuned back towards Draco.

Draco noticed the look on her face change from a vacant expression, to one of frustration. He felt his face turn hot. "You haven't been listening, have you? I told you this was important!"

"Sorry… I'm just trying to understand where this is going, or figure out whether or not I can believe you."

"Well you better believe me, because it gets a lot more complicated than being a bond."

Ginny stayed quiet, now feeling very anxious.

"As I was saying… you and I are now connected, and as a matter of fact, neither of us can even THINK about having other partners, we're stuck together for life. The effects of the potion thus far basically were just a way of forcing us to consummate the contract. What we did together made the original connection ten times stronger. And if we try to end the connection, we'll probably kill ourselves in the process. It's stronger than the most powerful magic out there. We're bonded to each other for life, and there's nothing we can do to change it."

When she said nothing, he continued, "That means you can't think about other men."

He shot her a haughty look, as if saying 'as if you would need another man, anyway!'.

She rolled her eyes. She was doubtful that he was telling her the truth. She was a pureblood, and she was stuck with him forever, unless she'd rather die? Oddly enough, she hadn't even started thinking about her supposedly new-found restriction to one man. As far as she'd known so far, in her life, she wasn't even supposed to have a man to begin with. She wasn't allowed love, she wasn't allowed lust…

"Just let that sink into your head. I'm all you can have, and you're all I get. Don't try to stray, you're stuck with me and really bad things will happen to us if we try to get out of this."

"That sounds simple enough, but I still don't believe you."

"Well, I'm not about to prove it to you by trying to shag somebody else, it's not worth dying." Draco growled in annoyance. She wasn't going to listen to him.

"How about this," he hesitated. He'd never attempted anything like what he had in mind.

She looked at him inquisitively. He actually was treating her differently. He'd never spoken to her like this before. He wasn't ordering her around, degrading her, or speaking to her like she was a child...

Something clicked in her mind. Was he telling the truth?

"I'm going to try something with you, and you better not tell a single soul, do you understand me?"

She nodded, having no clue as to what he could possibly want to keep a secret that badly.

"There's no doubts there… I'll get killed if my father finds out I'm doing this," Draco muttered to himself.

He took a deep breath, and handed her his wand.

OoOoO


End file.
